


Hiding and Finding in the City on the Sea

by MathClassWarfare



Series: This Ain’t No Party [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, POV Prompto Argentum, Spies & Secret Agents, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 20:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18556894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathClassWarfare/pseuds/MathClassWarfare
Summary: The boys arrive in Altissia so Noctis can meet the Hydrean, but Prompto's worried about what else might be waiting forhim.





	Hiding and Finding in the City on the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> I think Prompto's parents are Niflheim spies, and it comes up in this story. My fic that focuses on the Argentums is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16082483).

It’s a jaw-dropping sight—the city unfurls before them in red brick and white stone, spires and statues and terra cotta roof tiles, light reflecting off impossible waterfalls, and glittering golden domes all the way at the top. Everything they see as the Royal Vessel pulls up to the dock is completely charming.

Prompto hops off the boat, wearing a stupid grin. “Can you guys believe this shit?!” he squeals through delighted laughter. “We’re in _Altissia_!”

Ignis breathes deep and turns a serene smile to the gorgeous skyline of the city. 

“Real nice,” Gladio declares.

Noctis’s smile is wider than usual. Even Mr. post-enthusiasm himself cannot deny how extremely magical it is here.

 _Altissia is beautiful in the spring._

This throwaway comment from his father—this code-phrase—springs out of Prompto’s memory and sends a shiver down his spine. He needs to stay alert while they’re here. Not all Imperials in this city will be easy to spot, and some of them might be on the lookout for him, specifically. If his folks sent word that he was coming, somebody out there is probably wondering why he never checked in.

“Noct, it would be best if you put a hat on. And sunglasses.” Ignis says, keeping his voice low. “Most of the populace does not know your face, but we cannot be too careful.” 

“Sure. Whatever.” Noctis opens his backpack and fishes out his favorite black and gold baseball cap. 

“Don’t you have two of those?” Prompto asks, “Can I borrow one?” 

“Maybe in my duffel. Why?” 

“Hair’s a mess. From the boat.” Prompto runs a hand through it, to demonstrate.

Noctis gives him a warm smile. “What? I think your hair looks great.” 

They share a look for just a moment before suddenly—awkwardly—breaking eye contact when they notice Gladio watching them. He looks amused. _Shit._

Prompto shakes his head. “Thanks buddy, but no. It doesn’t.”

He rummages through Noctis’s duffel bag and finds a bright yellow chocobo hat with a moogle pom-pom springing off the top. _Where did he even get this thing?_ Prompto pushes his bangs out of the way and puts the hat on his head. He probably looks like such a dork, but at least it will hide his hair and cover his face a bit. Better safe than sorry.

Now they just have to get past the authorities, and they can explore this beautiful city and all its little nooks and crannies. 

The man at the gate apparently doesn’t recognize Noctis, and Ignis makes up a cover-story about them being culinary students. Prompto can almost hear his own pounding heartbeat as he tries to think of everything he knows about cooking—it isn’t much. Thankfully, the gatekeeper waves them through without any questions.

Prompto can’t stop looking over his shoulder and scanning all the flower-draped balconies they pass as they make their way into the city. Ignis must have noticed, because he’s slowing his pace to walk alongside him. 

“You can relax,” Ignis says quietly. “No one is following us, and I’ll see that it stays that way.”

Prompto’s breath catches in his throat. He’s not sure how to react. “That's . . . good.” 

“It doesn’t seem that anyone has taken particular notice of Noct. Or any of us, for that matter.” 

With that, Ignis pats him on the back and speeds up to re-join Noctis. 

Prompto wonders if Ignis knows that the Empire might be watching him, and not just because his best friend is the exiled king of Lucis. Ignis is really good at this—always on the lookout for potential threats. And he’s so subtle about it. Prompto thinks Ignis would be a really good spy, and a cold fear blooms in his chest as he realizes that he might be one already. 

What scares Prompto even more is the sudden, startling impulse to turn quickly down the next alley and disappear. But he shakes it off, takes a deep breath, and follows his friends.

__

In a shadowy alcove behind a staircase, they finally have a moment alone. Prompto’s knuckles scrape against rough stone as he buries his fingers in Noctis’s hair, pressing him up against the wall with his hips and his mouth. The baseball caps lay at their feet where Noctis tossed them, before gripping the back of Prompto’s vest and kissing him with the fierce urgency that’s become so familiar. 

At the sound of descending footsteps, Prompto whirls away. He ducks his head and looks out the corner of his eye at the woman walking towards them—immediately recognizing her from the hotel. She was working at the reception desk when they checked in. _Shit!_

“Don’t worry boys,” she laughs, “Altissia loves love!” 

Noctis covers his face with his hands and muffles a mortified groan. 

Prompto puts on a shaky smile and asks, “Hey, could you maybe do us a favor?” 

She stops walking and smiles back. “I’m always happy to help visitors to our fair city.”

“It would be really great if you could, like, not say anything about this?” Prompto glances at Noctis and sees that he’s retrieved his hat and pushed the brim low over his eyes. 

“Of course,” she says, “but, you shouldn’t have to hide. It’s 756!”

“It’s . . . complicated. We really appreciate it. Thanks.” 

“Not a problem. Have a good night!” She waves goodbye and continues on her way.

“‘Night.” 

Once they’re alone again, Noctis slumps to the ground. “I hate this,” he mutters.

Prompto pouts in mock-offense and sits in front of him, bumping their knees together.

“No,” Noctis brushes a hand across Prompto’s cheek. “I mean, I love _this_.” He punctuates his statement with a kiss. “I just hate that we have to sneak around, and I can’t just tell everybody how I feel about you.” 

His words tug hard at Prompto’s heart. These weeks on the road have been really difficult, but even after all they’ve suffered and lost, he’s felt happier than he’s ever been. He’s starting to feel like he belongs for once.

“Hey, sneaking around’s not all bad.” He puts his hands on Noctis’s shoulders. “You don’t really want to make out in public, do you?” 

Noctis shrugs, and leans in against Prompto’s forehead. “Maybe I just wanna hold your hand.”

“Yeah,” Prompto breathes. “I feel that.”

“We should get moving.”

One last lingering kiss, and they stand up to leave. 

They still have to find that popcorn shrimp for Ignis.

__

As the four friends reach another level of this multi-tiered city, they overhear two stylish women discussing the Vivienne Westwood exhibit of Lady Lunafreya’s wedding dress.

“Seems we’re on the right track,” Ignis observes.

It’s like everybody in Altissia is losing their minds over this dress. 

Prompto suggested—maybe a little too enthusiastically—that they go to see it. The engagement has been a sore spot between him and Noctis, and he’s been trying not to let it get to him. He’s been trying to be understanding and supportive, but he might have taken it a little too far this time. Noctis has been really quiet, and Prompto is dying to know what’s on his mind. He can’t ask, though—not with Ignis and Gladio around. 

It’s so weird to hear people talking about Noctis as if he wasn’t right there, passing them on the sidewalk. They have no idea what he looks like. He’s just a name and a title—a foreign prince engaged to the oracle. Never mind that he’s not really just a prince anymore. 

It’s amazing that they managed to keep his identity secret outside the Crown City, and it’s a good thing, too. Noctis is obviously getting uncomfortable overhearing people talk about him. It would be so much worse if they were swarming him to ask for selfies or autographs or who knows what else. 

Around the next corner, Ignis stops in front of a brightly colored cart with a sign that reads ‘Gelati Gagligione.’

“Look at this, Noct.” He gestures at the menu, “They recommend ‘gelato made with fine wine from Veldoria. Not for children or lightweights!’ _Ha!_ ”

“Not for you two, then,” Gladio huffs a laugh.

“Hey! I’m not a lightweight!” Prompto protests. “Who wants wine ice cream though? Sounds gross.”

“Yeah. Gross,” Noctis agrees.

“Not ice cream. Gelato.” Ignis corrects him with a half-smile. “And I think it sounds interesting.”

The sign promises that they have ‘enough flavors to please the pickiest of palates,’ and it’s true. Noctis likes the orange. 

“Specs is right. It’s different than ice cream. Wanna try mine?” Noctis holds out his cone to Prompto, and he swaps it for his Eusciello apple. Both flavors are delicious, and refreshing.

“You guys are disgusting!” Gladio teases.

Noctis rolls his eyes. He’s always saying the best strategy is to ignore Gladio when he’s like this, so Prompto tries to do that.

“How’s yours, Iggy?”

“Sublime. It’s sweet—but not cloying—fruity, with a subtle bite. Not very tannic at all.” 

“All right! All right! Don’t rub it in,” Prompto laughs. He exchanges a puzzled glance with Noctis, who’s silently mouthing the unfamiliar word— _‘tannic?’_

They finish their gelato and make their way to the exhibit. Prompto keeps his eyes on Noctis as they weave through the crowd towards the window. His expression is difficult to read. He might be sad, or just feeling awkward about all these strangers talking about him and Lunafreya. He’s probably still worrying about her. The First Secretary hasn’t let them see her yet, but promised she was under Accordo’s protection.

All these people are so excited about a dress and the idea of a royal wedding. Gladio and Ignis think they should go ahead with it—to be a symbol of the peace and help unite the people of Eos after the Lucians take their country back. Prompto squashes his jealousy into a little ball and smiles and nods in agreement. Noctis shoots him a brief, searching look, then turns back to his fiancé’s portrait. 

He says he’ll think about it.

__

Ignis is flipping through the local newspaper while they all drink fancy coffee at a sidewalk cafe. Gondola drivers call out to well-dressed pedestrians passing by, and birdsong warbles down from the rooftops.

“ _Hmm._ ” He taps the page, turning to Gladio. “Eida is playing here. I was sorry to miss this production when it came through the Crown City.”

“Yeah?” Gladio leans over to look at the article. “I didn’t catch it either. Wanna go?” 

“It’s quite long, but we do have the evening free. I’m interested to see this modern interpretation.” Ignis looks across the table at the rest of their party, who’ve been playing Kings Knight. “Noct? Prompto? What do you say?”

Prompto is about to say he’s down for whatever, but Noctis catches his eye with a grimace and a quick shake of the head. 

So Noctis answers for both of them. “That sounds so boring, but you guys go ahead.”

Ignis frowns. He’s obviously worried about leaving Noctis unprotected.

“I’ll be _fine_ ,” Noctis insists. “Nothing’s happened since we’ve been here. And anyway, we can take on anybody that might try to mess with us.”

“And what are you planning to do instead?”

“We’ll go fishing.” 

“I’m sure Prompto will find that riveting,” Ignis replies—not quite under his breath.

“Nah, it’s cool.” Prompto holds up his camera, “I’ve been wanting get some shots of the city from the dock.”

“See?” Noctis flings an arm over Prompto’s shoulder and shoots Ignis a mocking grin. “I have _good_ ideas.”

Ignis sips his coffee and continues reading the paper.

“We should go and get gussied up.” Gladio stands, brushing pastry crumbs off his pants. “I don’t want to show up at the theater looking like a scrub.” 

“I appreciate that, Gladio. We have just a little more than an hour.” Ignis folds the paper and rises to his feet. “Be _careful_. Keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior. Message me immediately if anything seems amiss.” He makes eye contact with Prompto as he says this.

“Will do!” 

“Meet us at the hotel at 8:30 for dinner.” 

“Sure,” Noct waves. “Later.”

“Have fun!” Prompto shouts.

Ignis turns around one last time to remind them again to be careful, and then he and Gladio disappear into the crowd.

“So.” Noctis grabs Prompto’s hand under the table. “You really don’t mind going fishing?”

“Yeah! I mean, no I don’t mind. Can we take a gondola?”

“Of course.”

The gondola pilot recommends that they fish from an out-of-the way pier that won’t be crowded with other tourists. He promises that the magnificent view is worth the trip. 

They glide through the canals, looking both up and down at this unbelievable city—passing under stone bridges and alongside pretty waterfront restaurants and busy markets. They can’t kiss or anything, with the pilot right there, but it’s still stupid romantic.

“You know, you kinda look like you’re trying to avoid the paparazzi.” Noctis gestures at Prompto’s sunglasses and hat— a cheap knit beanie with ‘Altissia’ in shiny gold embroidery, framed by a simplified outline of the palace domes. He paid way too much for it at a newsstand near the hotel, but it’s less conspicuous than the silly choco-moogle hat.

“Says the _celebutante_ ,” Prompto retorts,  pushing the brim of Noctis’s own hat down over his face.

“Hey!” 

Noctis recovers and grabs Prompto’s wrists—holding him for a breath or two after their laughter tapers out. They grin at each-other, heartbeats quickening. 

“This is it, boys!” calls the pilot, and Noctis lets go.

“Thanks for the ride!” Prompto digs in his wallet for a tip. “How often do you guys come back through here?”

“Thank _you_! And don’t worry, we won’t leave you stranded.” The pilot hands Prompto a business card. “If nobody comes by and you want a ride back in, just give me a call— Alfonse.”

“Nice to meet you Alfonse, I’m P-pongo. Sorry—“ Prompto fakes a coughing fit. _That was close!_

Noctis pats him on the back, half-smiling and shaking his head.

“Thanks man,” Noctis calls out as Alfonse pushes off. “We’ll give you a call.” 

Once they’re alone, they both burst into laughter. 

“Pongo?!” Noctis gasps, “isn’t that your neighbor’s dog? I’m dying!”

“Yeah,” Prompto squeaks, “it was the first ‘P’ name I could think of!” He’s laughing so hard he has tears streaming down his face.

Noctis takes a deep breath, and regains control of himself.

“I know Ignis said to be careful, but I don’t think he meant you need to come up with a secret identity.” Noctis bumps him with his shoulder. “Just don’t tell anybody who I am, and we’re good. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Prompto pulls off his beanie and uses it to wipe his face, “okay.”

It really is a beautiful view. Prompto takes at least a dozen shots before he turns the lens towards Noctis, who has a sheepish smile and something hidden in his fist.

He lowers the camera. “What?”

“Uh . . . I ‘gacha’ something.” Noctis opens his hand to reveal a small plastic bubble with a red lid—probably from one of the machines near the docks where they entered the city. There’s something yellow inside.

“What?!” Prompto laughs, reaching for it.

“Wait. Hold on.” Noctis opens the capsule and removes a plastic chocobo ring.

“ _Oooh!_ Chocobo!” 

“Hold on!”

Prompto shuts his mouth, and nods.

“Okay. So. What I wanted was a malboro bouncy ball, but I got this.” He takes a deep breath and glances up at Prompto and back down at the tiny chocobo. “So I figured I would give it to you, obviously, but . . . “ Noctis looks up again, and he looks nervous.

“What—“ 

“But I thought,” Noctis laughs, cutting him off, “wouldn’t it be funny if I like, proposed to you with this?”

“Uhh-what?” Prompto’s eyes narrow. _Why would he even joke about that?_  

“And then, and then I got really bummed out because I realized that _no_ , I can’t propose to you with this plastic chocobo ring—which is too fucking perfect—because Luna and I have to be the fucking ‘symbol of the peace’ and get married, even after everything. Like it means something for the leaders of two countries to be married—like why is that a thing?”

Prompto stares, slack-jawed, while Noctis winds himself up. He feels like his heart is going to burst, but Noctis keeps talking.

“And _then_ I thought, you know what? Fuck it.” He locks eyes with Prompto, and takes a breath.

“Fuck it?” 

Noctis nods, and drops to one knee. “Fuck it.” 

“What?! Dude!” Prompto is crying and laughing again.

“I love you. I know you and Luna’ll be great friends. You’re obviously going to move in with us anyway. So . . . what do you say? Will you officially, unofficially marry me?”

Prompto crouches down to Noctis’s level. “Yes! What?! Of course!” 

“We can’t have a big wedding or anything—we can’t make it public—but we should still do something, okay?”

Prompto nods emphatically and holds out his hand.

Noctis pushes the ring onto his outstretched pinky finger—the thing is sized for a small child and catches on Prompto’s knuckle.

After they kiss, Prompto says, “I would be _honored_ to be your royal concubine,” and his best friend’s horrified expression makes him cackle like a maniac.

“Eww! That makes me sound like a creep!” 

“Sorry.” Prompto tries to maintain a straight face. “Side piece.” He dissolves into giggles.

“No!”

“ _Lover_.” Grinning, he pushes Noctis back onto the dock.

“Stop,” Noctis mutters, grabbing a fistful of Prompto’s shirt, and pulling him down on top of himself. 

It’s probably not the best idea to make out on the dock in enemy territory, but they let themselves be irresponsible for a few minutes. 

Eventually, Prompto pulls away. “Sorry, dude. Gotta keep our eyes peeled, remember?”

“Yeah,” Noctis sighs, “you’re right.”

They put their hats and sunglasses back on, and Prompto slips the ring onto one of the chains around his neck. “Right next to my heart!” he swoons, getting a half-hearted eye-roll from Noctis.

Prompto spends the next hour or so looking through his camera lens at the city, the waterfalls, distant boats, and other docks, while Noctis fails to catch any fish. Prompto takes plenty of photos but mostly he’s making sure nobody out there is watching them. 

When they see another gondola approaching, Noctis turns away and stashes his rod and tackle in a poof of sparkling blue.

“Aww,” Prompto wraps an arm around his shoulder. “Giving up already?” 

Noctis nods. “Nothing’s biting. It’s fine. Not like Specs can cook it anyway.”

Since they’ve been staying in a hotel with no access to a kitchen, they’ve had restaurant food for every meal. Most of it is overpriced, and not nearly as good as what they’re used to eating. They actually miss camping, but haven’t admitted it to Gladio.

A couple step off the boat—two older women in matching hooded sweatshirts with the same embroidered design as Prompto’s hat. They’re probably fellow tourists who underestimated the chill that drifts in off the water. Or that could be what they _want_ people to think. 

“It’s all yours!” Prompto gestures at the dock, “We’re heading back.”

The women hold hands and smile amicably as they pass.

“Where to, gentlemen?” the pilot asks, after they’ve settled in.

“Um . . .” Prompto doesn’t want to say where they’re going until he feels confident that nobody will overhear.

After an awkward moment of silence, the pilot says, “I could take you on my regular circuit, if you’re just looking for a ride.” 

“Sorry. No, ah, can you please take us to the Leville Station?”

“Of course.”

A slow smile spreads across Noctis’s face, and Prompto figures they must both be thinking the same thing. Their friends won’t be back from the opera for more than two hours. That gives them plenty of time at the hotel to celebrate properly.

__

They’re at their third bookstore of the day, and Prompto is thumbing through the cart of 5 gil paperbacks out front while he waits for his friends. There’s nothing very interesting, so he turns around to watch the plaza. It’s a pretty area with cobblestones and tile roofs and lots of little shops. Brightly colored, fashionable people are rushing around, finishing their errands in the late afternoon light. Prompto takes a couple of pictures.

“Hey is that a Lokton?!” 

He jumps at the bubbly voice so close by. Putting down his camera, he turns to see a girl who looks about his age standing next to him. She’s small and pale, with bright magenta hair, and she’s wearing huge coerl-print sunglasses and vibrant green overalls with high heels. Prompto wonders if her hair is actually a wig. He can’t tell, because it looks like she has blonde roots, but it also looks too shiny and fluorescent to be real.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” He smiles, and gestures at his camera. “Yeah, it’s a Lokton.”

“Cool, man,” She nods. “I’d love to get my hands on one of those. All I’ve got’s this.” She holds up her phone, and grins. “Mind if I take your pic?”

“Uhh.” Prompto steps backwards. “I dunno. Why?”

“Duh! I like your look!” She laughs, putting a hand on his arm. “You’re rocking that tourist hat. It totally goes with your outfit. Not many people here do black monochrome.” 

_Shit._ Noctis is going to exit the bookstore any second, see this cute girl flirting with him, and get all sulky.

“You, ah . . . must not’ve seen my friends, then.” He takes another step back, so she isn’t touching him anymore. 

“Listen,” She runs a hand through her hair. (Maybe it’s not a wig. Or if it is, it’s glued on.) Then she says, “I’m a fashion blogger—local street style.” She holds out her hand. “Stella.”

Responding with a polite handshake, Prompto says, “Nice to meet you, I’m Pongo.” Guess he’s stuck with this stupid fake name now.

She giggles. “Cute.”

Prompto finds himself smiling involuntarily. _Stop!_ His hands are sweating. He wipes them on his pants. “What’s, uh, the name of your blog?”

“It’s ‘Street Stylla’ —like my name, only with a ‘y’ instead of an ‘e.’ So dumb, right?!” She laughs loudly, and puts her hand on Prompto’s when he pulls out his phone to look it up. “Hey, I know an alley nearby with cool graffiti. It would be such a good backdrop for you! I really want to put you on my blog!”

Prompto tries to mask his discomfort with laughter, but that just makes him feel even more awkward. “Thanks, but, I’ve gotta wait for my friends.”

“It’ll take like 15 minutes. And it’s so close, just tell ‘em you’ll catch up later!” She tugs at his wrist. “C’mon!”

Now this is starting to get weird. Prompto looks through the doorway of the bookstore and catches Ignis’s eye. He leaves the register where he was standing with Gladio, and comes to Prompto’s rescue.

When Ignis approaches, Stella finally lets go of Prompto.

“Hello there.” Ignis gives her one of the patient, indulgent smiles he saves for people who annoy him. Prompto used to know it well.

“Hi,” she chirps. Turning to Prompto, she says, “Another time maybe. See ya’!”

They wave goodbye as she re-joins the crowd.

Ignis touches Prompto’s shoulder and says, “Stay here, please.” Then he walks in the same direction Stella went. Within minutes, Prompto loses sight of both of them. 

His stomach churns as he waits and thinks through what just happened. He wonders why this girl was so interested in him, and why she took off so quickly when Ignis showed up. He does a moogle search for ‘Street Stylla’ and finds a blog, but there’s only three posts—all from this week. Maybe she just started it, and that’s why she was so eager to get pictures. Or maybe it’s some kind of front.

Noctis walks up behind him and peeks over his shoulder. “What’s that?”

“Some girl came up to me talking about her fashion blog.” Prompto hands him his phone.

“Oh?” Noctis raises an eyebrow. “Lemme guess. She wanted to put you on there?”

Prompto rubs his face with both hands, and exhales. “Yeah. I said no though.”

“Yeah?!” Noctis shoves him lightly, laughing. 

“Was she cute?” Gladio asks, joining them outside the door with his canvas bag full of new books.

Prompto glances at Noctis. Luckily, he’s still smiling.

“Yeah, was she cute?” Noctis shoves him again.

“Stop! I don’t know. Yes?” He shoves Noctis back, happy that he doesn’t seem bothered. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t. Just curious.” Noctis shrugs. He unwraps a pretty leather notebook and throws the plastic film in a trash bin. He must be getting to the end of his journal. 

“Nice. You just get that?”

Noctis nods and hands him the notebook. Prompto runs his thumb over the embossed border.

Gladio’s phone chimes and he says,“Iggy’s gonna meet us back at the hotel.”

“Where’d he go?” Noctis scans the crowd, “I thought he was out here with you.”

“Uh, he took off.” Prompto gestures vaguely toward the plaza. “I think he was following that girl. She was kinda weird.” 

“Hmmm.” Gladio frowns, thoughtfully. “Okay, let’s go then.” 

“Probably thought it was suspicious that she was hitting on you,” Noctis teases, as they walk.

“Hey!” Prompto scowls, worried that maybe he’s jealous after all. 

They return to the hotel and Gladio reads one of his new books while Prompto and Noctis play Kings Knight. It’s more than an hour before Ignis returns, greeting them quickly before making a bee-line for the bathroom. Prompto looks up just in time to catch a glimpse of a bright red spot on the white cuff of his shirt. 

He leaves the bathroom looking fresh as always. “Shall we go to dinner?”

“Yeah, I’m starving.” Noctis looks up from his phone. “But are you gonna tell us where you went?”

“Let’s walk and talk,” Ignis pulls on his jacket.

Gladio laces up his boots. “Where to?”

“I was thinking Maagho, if it’s all right with Noct.”

“Whatever, sure.”

“Yum!” Prompto jumps to his feet, eager to eat at Altissia’s best cafe again. 

When they’re on their way in the Gondola, Noctis turns to Ignis and asks, “So? What’s going on?”

Ignis leans close to Noctis, lowering his voice. “It’s nothing to be concerned about. I simply wanted to make sure that overly enthusiastic woman was not a threat to your safety.”

“And?” Gladio and Noctis ask, in unison.

“She won’t be.”

“So she really _was_ just interested in Prompto?” Noctis sounds incredulous, as if that was so unbelievable. Prompto frowns, and kicks his foot.

“I didn’t say that,” Ignis replies.

“Okay. . .”

“As I said, there’s no cause for concern. Let’s take it as a reminder that it’s best to stick together, and remain vigilant.” 

Gladio nods. “Always good advice.”

At Maagho, they enjoy a delicious meal, and shower Weskham in compliments when he stops by the table after they’ve finished eating.

“Would anyone care for a cappuccino?” he asks. “It’s on the house.” 

They all murmur their agreement and thanks, and Ignis follows Weskham back to the bar to help carry the drinks. 

The two of them spend a long time talking over the espresso machine. Based on the serious looks on their faces, Prompto doesn’t think they’re sharing recipes. Ignis’s eyes keep darting in the direction of the table, and Prompto can’t shake the feeling that they’re talking about him. 

After Ignis returns, he leans towards Prompto and says, “Well done today. You have good instincts.” 

“Thanks. Unpopular opinion, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to follow strangers into alleys.”

“No?” Ignis half-smiles, then sips his cappuccino. “It was smart to give a false name. I should have talked to all of you about that sooner.” 

“I figured we were trying to keep a low profile. Not that anybody knows me, or anything. I’m just a _pleb_.” Prompto chews on his lip. He hopes Ignis doesn’t know why certain people in this city might recognize his name.

“You never know.”

“Yeah.” Prompto swirls the dregs of his coffee and tries not to think too hard about what happened to that girl.

__

“I just don’t see why you can’t do the talking.” Noctis hugs a pillow, and looks at a lamp on the bedside table. 

“Because,” Ignis replies, pressing on the bridge of his nose, “as much as you may wish it were not the case, _you_ are the king.”

Noctis continues to stare at the lamp. 

From the other side of the room, where Prompto is cleaning his guns, he can’t tell if Noctis is about to cry. Something twists in his chest, but he doesn’t get up. This isn’t his territory.

Ignis continues in a gentler tone. “If you designate someone else to discuss terms, you risk offending the First Secretary—a risk we cannot afford to take.”

“Offend _her_?” Noctis huffs. “She’s holding Luna hostage! She should be worried about offending _us_!” His eyes flash as he finally turns to his advisor.

Gladio looks up from his book with raised eyebrows, but goes back to reading when Ignis holds up his hand.

Taking a seat beside Noctis on the bed, Ignis says, “Yes, we are all concerned about Lady Lunafreya, but I do believe we can trust First Secretary Claustra’s assurance of her safety. And we  _need_ Accordo as an ally—not only to win the war, but to rebuild once it’s over.”

Noctis exhales, deflated. “So, tell me what to do then.”

“Be respectful. As formal as you can manage.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“ _Please_. And try to be subtle. Accordo is in a precarious political situation, so we must be sensitive to that. Find a way to let on that we know she isn’t loyal to the Empire, without saying so outright. That could come across as a threat.”

“Like, how?”

“Perhaps you could find a way to mention your father’s old friend, Weskham. They are associates, and I have reason to believe that he’s operating against Niflheim.”

“Okay . . .”

“And don’t be too quick to agree to her demands. We should be willing to offer our assistance, but it would be unwise to commit our limited time or resources without the promise of something we need in return.”

“Right.”

As Prompto listens, all his instincts are screaming at him to make a joke or ask a dumb question, or change the subject— anything to distract his best friend and cheer him up. Noctis hates this kind of stuff, and he’s just radiating misery. But this is too important, so Prompto keeps his mouth shut for once.

Ignis makes the reluctant king run through mock diplomatic negotiations three times, before Noctis stands and announces that he needs to get some air. Prompto joins him.

Outside the hotel, they lean against a railing and look out at the water. It’s dark under the night sky and twinkling with reflected city lights.  

After a while, Prompto says, “I hope you know that I believe in you.”

Noctis looks surprised, even though this should be obvious. He opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything.

“And it’s not just ‘cause I love you, or that you’re my best friend. I know you’re gonna be amazing. I mean, you already are.”

Noctis reaches for Prompto and slumps into his embrace. Quietly, he asks, “What if you’re wrong?” 

“No way, dude! I’ve got Iggy on my side and he’s _never_ wrong.”

Noctis laughs, but it’s fragile. “I guess I better go back in and keep practicing. Don’t wanna disappoint you guys.”

Prompto kisses the side of his head. He thinks about how Noctis _can’t_ fail, because if he does, then they’ll all be screwed. He doesn’t say that though. He doesn’t have to. Instead, he says, “You’re gonna be great.”

He hopes Noctis will start to believe that himself, and soon. The future of their kingdom—and probably the whole world—depends on it.

For now, Noctis says,“Thanks, Prompto. I love you too.”

“Come on,” Prompto tilts his head back towards the hotel. “I think it’s my turn to be Camelia. Do we have anything with shoulder pads?”

__

Noctis rolls out of the First Secretary’s Estate like a storm cloud, with his retainers trailing behind.

They make their way through cobblestone streets that are suddenly much less charming than they used to be. After several blocks of walking in gloomy silence, Prompto puts a tentative hand on his best friend’s shoulder. In a small, quiet voice, he says,“Hey. It’s fine.”

Noctis spins on his heels. “No. It’s not.” He takes a deep breath. “Sorry . . . I fucked up. Pretty much said the opposite of what I was supposed to, and now we have to do everything ourselves.”

Ignis lifts an eyebrow and turns to look in another direction.

“But,” Prompto interjects, “they’re giving us _some_ help. She said something about transceivers?”

“That’s right,” Ignis says through a smile that doesn’t look at all happy, “so we can stay in communication while we’re scattered across the city during the rite.” 

Noctis mutters, “Everybody knows—don’t split the party. You just don’t do it.” 

Prompto nods.

“Well,” Gladio growls, “looks like we’re doing it.”

“It is what it is,” Ignis sighs. “We’ll have their cooperation, at the very least. Come, let’s regroup back at the hotel and come up with a plan.”

As they continue walking, Prompto tries to suppress his growing panic. He tells himself to wait for whatever Ignis has to say. If anyone can think of a way to get through this, it’s him. Plus, they’ve got the oracle in their corner and two actual gods—hopefully soon it will be three. 

The four friends have to try to trust in themselves and each-other. They’ll just have to do their best. It’s all they _can_ do. 

Prompto falls back into step with Noctis, weaves their fingers together, and gives his hand a squeeze. They hold hands all the way to the hotel, and right now, neither of them really cares who might see.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, much love to the folks on the [r/FFXV discord server](https://discord.gg/FFXV) for sharing so much knowledge and creative ideas.
> 
> I was thinking about [Spy on You](https://youtu.be/-zQXJLmR-Bg) by Deerhoof when I named this thing.


End file.
